


untidy

by toxicpop



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Gen, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicpop/pseuds/toxicpop
Summary: just a little fun work about pals fuckin around





	untidy

**Author's Note:**

> this is for helplessly-nonstop's writing challenge on tumblr! I got prompt #19 and just had fun with it. never mind 800+ words of it I wrote in the last 2 hours because I got terrible time management skills. whatever, hope y'all enjoy this dumb little romp

Mox brushed his hair out of his eyes and scowled at the fitted sheet that absolutely refused to stay down. He didn’t even want to make his fucking bed in the first place, much less deal with all the washing sheets bullshit, but the bloodstains on the mattress were starting to gross even him out a little. “Jus’ stay, y'fucker,” he grumbled under his breath as he yanked the sheet over the corner.

  
“Issues?” came a voice. Mox craned his neck to glare in the general direction of the door. His roommate stood there leaned against his doorframe, a wry grin spreading across their face like dropped ice cream on hot pavement.

  
“None’a ya fuckin’ business,” he huffed. A different corner popped off the mattress with an audible _fwip._ “Can’t a man make his goddamn bed in peace?”

  
“I dunno, Mox. Looks like you’re having some trouble.”

  
“Y'don’t fuckin’ say,” he muttered in irritation.

  
“You know, if you just-“

  
“I know how t’ do it,” he snapped, wrestling the sheet back into place.

  
“Do you, though? All your weight in the middle just puts more stress on the corners while you get them situated. If you’ll do the far corners first-“

  
“Oh, ‘scuse me, didn’t realize y'were th' goddamn authority on fuckin’ bedsheets.”

  
“Why you gotta be so hardheaded? You’d be done by now if you’d just try it.”

  
“Fine! Y'so fuckin' clever, show me how s'done.” Mox launched himself off the bed and made a grand showcasing gesture at the mass of sheets. “Floor's all y'rs.”

  
“Sure thing, bud. Wanna time me?” His roommate stripped his disastrous results off of the mattress and had the fitted sheet shaken out and properly reapplied in less than a minute.

  
“Get th’ fuck out, y'fuckin' wizard. Nobody said y'could use witchcraft.”

  
“I got a trick for the pillowcases too, if you turn it inside out and grab the pillow corners through the case you can work it down a whole lot easier.”

  
“What th' fuck kinda Hogwarts bullshit.”

* * *

“Moxley I swear to god if this is actual skin I’m gonna set you on fire!” His roommate poked at the gory lump on the counter with a nail file while Mox continued morosely scrubbing at the blood spatter on the hall carpet. “What the fuck did you leave this here for?”

  
“S'not mine. At leas’ I’m pretty sure s'not mine.” Mox went for a smile, but it came out half leer and half wild animal baring its teeth. “Could check if y'want, back’s a little hard t' see sometimes. Callihan was here earlier, maybe ‘s his. Dunno. Shit happens when y'friends’re all cage fighters. Y'should be used t' that shit by now.”

  
“That doesn’t make it any better! Nasty little shit. Hell you think you’re doing with the carpet anyway? 409 ain’t gonna do dick shit. Peroxide gets blood out like a dream.”

  
“Who died an' made ya th’ fuckin’ cleanup king? S'what I always use.”

  
“Mox. Trust me. It’s way faster, it’ll change your life.” They fished a brown bottle out from under the sink and knelt across from him. “Check this shit out.” When they poured a thin stream of peroxide on the stain, it fizzed wildly. They wiped the foam away, poured a little more peroxide, and before Mox knew it the stain was just a damp spot the same shitty beige as the rest of the carpet. Maybe a bit less dingy, even.

  
“I’ll be damned," he said in astonishment.

  
“Told you!” They handed him the bottle. “You can do the rest, it’s your mess.”

  
“Aw, but y'so fuckin' good at it.”

  
“Fuck off,” they said affectionately. “And get your grody bodily mass off the sink.”

  
“Hell y'want me t' do with it?”

  
“Don’t care, just get rid of it.”

  
"So leave it in y’r bed?"

  
“How bad you wanna fuckin’ die tonight, asshole?” Later, Mox knew, when he was chasing them around the apartment with said bodily mass in his bare hand, or when they found it in a plastic bag in the refrigerator, or whatever he decided to do with it, they would regret not being more specific with their instructions.

* * *

“You wanna maybe stop scattering lettuce in my floorboards?”

  
“Hungry,” Mox managed around a mouthful of the crunchy taco he was currently inhaling in his roommate's car. He swallowed and continued, “Jus' cause y'fuckin burrito ain’t got a sunroof don’t mean y'can get all high an’ mighty on me.”

  
“You better put some respect on the quesarito's name.” They turned up the music a touch to cover Mox's crunchy open-mouthed chewing sounds with punk rock. “I can’t believe you dragged me out after midnight to get Taco Bell.”

  
“Hey, I fuckin’ bought ya Taco Baco in exchange f'r drivin' us here. Not m' fault ‘m too drunk t' drive.”

  
They shot him a puzzled look. “It's absolutely your fault you’re too drunk to drive, bud.”

  
“How ‘bout we let y'r ass in th' ring an’ see how long y'wanna be sober once they start pullin' barbed wire outta y'skin all careful-like.”

  
“Shut up and eat your tacos.”

  
“Why we sittin' in th' parkin’ lot anyway?”

  
“Cause you threw a shit fit in the drive thru about not wanting to wait ten minutes to get home and eat. Hangry much?”

  
“Only all m' fuckin life.”

  
“You’re a menace, Moxley,” they laughed.

  
“Yeah, well y'r a fuckin’ know it all.”

  
“Creep.”

  
“Show off.”

  
“Asshole.”

  
“Busybody.”

  
“Go fuck yourself.”

  
“Fuck me y'self, y'coward.”

  
They burst into laughter and slugged his shoulder with their free hand. “You’re my best friend, you fucker.”

  
“Yeah yeah. Says a lot about y’fuckin’ social skills.”

  
“You know you love me.”

  
“Much as I love gettin' my ass kicked every night.”

  
“Wanna go home and play Mortal Kombat?”

  
“Ah fuck yeah. Hey, y'like seafood?”

  
“Seafood?”

  
“Yeah! See food.” He stuck out his tongue to show off the remains of his thoroughly chewed taco.

  
“Gross! God damn it Moxley, what the fuck is wrong with you?” They eased the car out of the parking space and got back on the road. “You’re definitely one of a kind.”

 


End file.
